


Dreaming In Blue

by Dance_Elle_Dance



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Dreams, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dance_Elle_Dance/pseuds/Dance_Elle_Dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azula dreams of blue, blue eyes and tan skin and laughter - she hates herself for it. (Originally posted on 4/20/11.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming In Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post of my first SokkaAzula fanfic. Please enjoy!

Around the fuzzy edges of her dreams, she realizes he's a good kisser.

He's a good everything, really. But then again, this is her dream, so why _wouldn't_ he be good at everything?

She gasps against his mouth as his hands find their way into the waistband of her pants. She isn't used to this kind of contact. The fire princess isn't used to any contact, really. At least, not used to contact that doesn't involve violence.

His fingers are rough and calloused, but strong. Good hands, she thinks, as his hands dip below the layers of fabric she wears.

She tries not to shiver as his fingers brush against her thighs, precariously close to that very spot that aches so much...

Her eyes open, half-lidded, and gaze into the opposing pair that look down at her with such... _adoration_ that she doesn't know what to do with herself. Is that truly what love looks like? She doesn't know, but it is something that she finds that she likes. That she savors. He's looking at her like that. Not the Kyoshi girl. Not the earthbender. Not anyone else. Only her.

_Selfish._

His eyes are such a lovely shade of blue, she notices.

The tan of his skin is a sharp contrast to her own paler tone. She digs her nails into his back and he gives a husky groan that makes her jut her hips against his waist, wrapping her long legs around him.

He chuckles at her desperation, and she knows that she has amused him somehow. That would be a first.

His laughter is melodic, and his breath comes in huffs against her ear, "Impatient even in the bedroom, huh, Azula?"

"Shut _up_ ," she growls at him, her mind too muddled by arousal to think straight. She wants what she wants and what she wants his him. His laughter is cut off by a moan as she uses his legs to pull him closer to her, and she feels just how much she has affected him.

She smirks as he presses his lips to hers in a kiss that seems to say everything and not enough all at once. It is almost enough to soothe her fiery demeanor for the time being. She feels him press into her, slowly - so slowly, and she bites his shoulder in her impatience -

As soon as the moment happens, it is gone, because that is when Azula wakes up.

She sits up, her bedclothes falling loosely off her slim shoulder, revealing her pale skin. Skin that had once been touched by _him_ , and now was left unmarrred, like nothing happened.

Because, in fact, _nothing happened._

It disappoints Azula more than she cares to admit.

She feels unsatiated, wound up, and she aches for the touch of another.

Azula wants nothing more than to destroy her entire bedroom because of it. She isn't supposed to want another person this badly. She isn't supposed to yearn to be with anyone. She is fine by herself, fine without anyone. She shouldn't want to be with this man, the man that has haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. It is a sign of weakness, to want anyone this badly. To want anyone so badly that she feels as if she couldn't function if she can't have them.

And she most definitely _can't_ have him.

Azula groans slightly, closing her eyes and imagining the feel of his hands - or what she thinks his hands feel like. Her body feels all hot and sensitive, almost like she is coated in the fire she bends. The dark haired princess falls back onto the bed, lets out a sigh as she does so, and covers her too-hot face with her hands. Hands that had roamed across his tanned skin just moments before in her dreamworld.

She hates herself, but this is a whole other kind of low.

Azula rolls over, hugging the pillow as if it were a living thing, and buries her face in it, muffling the one word that she speaks that night. The one word - the one name - that she can never allow anyone to hear leave her lips in such a wanton, longing fashion.

"Sokka."


End file.
